Behind Sanity

Chapter Seven

                                                                     Behind Sanity 

                                                                    Chapter Seven 

                                                                                1 

               Alice stood in the kitchen, alone and silent.  She held her fingers to her lips in pondering, staring toward the smooth, tile countertop but looking right through it.  The house was empty except for herself, since Wendy had left to walk Morgan home from school.  Alice had been standing in the same spot for half an hour, simply thinking and gazing at her surroundings.  The floor was cold through her stockings.  She could see the red and yellow leaves falling from the tree outside the window with the white drapes.  The counter top shined in a small ray of sun, but none of this lifted Alice.  She was again without hope.  Fingering her lips lightly, she let her eyes close and took a deep breath.

                Why?  That was the question traveling across her mind.  Why had any of this happened?  She had been fine for a while – just fine in the asylum – but now, as soon as she was free, she was slipping again?  The worst thing about it all was that she had no idea how to deal with her own disease.  She did not know how to help herself because she could not remember.  There was a completely different world in existence, somewhere beyond her reach.  She had been part of it once.  It had deserted her. 

                “Wonderland…” she whispered, just to feel the word pass her lips. “Where are you now?”   

                Shuttering, she felt something wet against her lip.  There had been nothing on her hand when she’d raised it there, and so the liquid sensation surprised her.  Slowly, she drew her hand from her mouth, peering at it cautiously.  It was unmistakable.  Blood.  Deep, red blood covered her fingers and made a small puddle in her palm.  Somewhere in her mind she knew that the blood was not really there, but the sight of it had already gripped her heart.  A tear began to well in her eye.  The blood in her palm – the claw marks.  

                That night.  That dreadful night…

                “Dinah!  What are you doing?” a ten-year-old Alice had questioned her beloved pet.  

                Darkness had settled in outside and Alice was about to turn in just as the rest of the town, when Dinah had pulled the drapery from the window.  The blue material cascaded down and covered the troublesome feline, nearly giving Alice herself a heart attack when the rod had dashed the hard floor.

                “You silly dear!  Come here!” she scolded, but Dinah had just turned up her nose, as cats do, and ignored the tired girl.

                 Pulling herself up angrily, Alice had scooped up Dinah.

                “I said to come over here and get in your bed!”

                That was when Dinah had pulled her claws and sliced Alice’s skin across her hand.  She winced and stared at the blood coming out, covering her fingers.  The feline had dug in much too deep, but young Alice was far from tears.  Dinah scampered out of Alice’s grasp and darted to safety under the bed.